The Kingdom Of The Wicked by Anthony Burgess (1985 Hutchinson & Co.)

My love for Burgess' books can be overkill to some of my friends. I'm always reading 3 or 4 books at a time, and one of his titles is usually in the mix. Burgess was a polymath to the point of annoyance to some of his acquaintances, of which he had few that we close to him outside of his wife. His novels contain exhaustive, yet entertaining, information about subjects from dystopian literature to Greek Tragedy. Of course, he's best known as the author of A Clockwork Orange, a book that he counts as being one of his lesser works. Though it made him a literary celebrity, he felt that the movie kept him from artistic credit that he should have gotten for his other books. This point becomes more painfully clear with every book of his that I read. (At this point, I've read about half of his 50+ titles.) The adjective, "Kubrickian" has become a pop cultural staple among movie buffs and talk show hosts, but it's not at all accurate. The unsettling satire set in an atmosphere that's both nightmarish and food-on-the-end-of-the-fork real is a theme that runs through many of his works, and Stanley Kubrick brought this front-and-center in his movie adaptation. Unfortunately, Kurbrick got all the credit with the movie going public and most of the cash. (Burgess had to take legal action to recover royalties that he was never paid.)

The Kingdom Of The Wicked traces the first years of Christianity, starting with the days following Jesus' resurrection and, in the book, debatable ascension. It follows Saul (soon to be Paul) from his persecution of the Nazareens to his conversion on the road to Damascus, his omega-male takeover of the Nazareen movement, his struggle with the other disciples to allow non-Hebrews into the new faith, and through his mysterious martyrdom. (It is thought that he was beheaded in Rome.) This is wonderfully counter-pointed by the story of Sarah, a Hebrew beauty who finds herself marrying an upwardly mobile Roman citizen. (Counter-point was a faculty that was well-honed with Burgess. He was also an accomplish composer.) The reader is also taken on an erudite, often hilarious, often disgusting, ride through the reigns of Tiberius, Claudius, and his overtly murderous and promiscuous wife, and the insane and vindictive Caligula and Nero.

What I took away from this book was a rekindled thirst for classical antiquity.

Burgess also possessed one of the 20th Century's most hilarious comb-overs.